Where there's a will, there's a way

Going down

Mom’s told her story. Her and her husband had another fight last night and when she woke up in the morning, we were both gone. It hadn’t been 24 hours yet, it was a domestic dispute, legal father, so no case. “Sorry Mrs Botha, but there’s nothing we can do to help at this time.” You could see the eruption coming, so without any further hesitation, the young police officer discretely fled the scene, his dignity still intact.

There weren’t too many options available to mom, so she did what she’d been wanting to do for a very long time, she called Reggie, and before you could say, "Bob’s your uncle" or “boo to the proverbial goose,“ Reggie was there, to offer her comfort, a shoulder for her to cry on.

The crew took her in, no questions asked, and for a while, things were much better for mom. That’s, other than her not knowing, or having any idea where I was, which in her words, ‘would keep her awake until the early hours,’ and it wasn’t helping at all, especially not when it came to taking care of her baby girls.

In mom’s opinion, she’d been doing the best she could. She fed and watered them every day, and they were still alive weren’t they?Mafeking’s close to South Africa's border with Botswana and it’s in the middle of nowhere. It’s built on the open veld (grasslands) at high altitude and it’s hot. Mafeking, if you cared to ask me, was a long, long, way from Durban and home. It was, and probably still is, a horrible f**king place.

Dad and I were having a great time, driving across country, stopping at homely little B&B’s. Complete strangers were oohing and aahing over him and his cute little boy, but also asking after mom at the same time. ‘How come we were travelling on our own, didn’t I miss my mom,’ and so on. Dad spent most of his time making inane excuses, and we kept moving on.

It didn’t take long before I did start missing mom, and I must have started giving him a hard time, so he probably thought, ‘f**k this, enough already.’ Whatever it was, I’m sure he had a good reason when he dropped me off with some friends of his in Mafeking, but only for a few days. I figured he just needed some space.

I had no idea that I wouldn’t see him again, not until l went looking for him after completing my national service, because soon after dropping me off, and without anyone knowing or being informed of his arrest, dad ended up in jail. They’d finally caught up with him, and locked him up, for stealing the car that we’d been traveling in.

From my point of view, his friends were f**king great. They never knew that dad had been banged up, so they did their best to look after me, while waiting for him to come and get me. They made me feel right at home. No one bothered to make me wash, or comb my hair, or brush my teeth. After a week or so, still no dad in sight, and not really knowing what else to do, they sent me to the local school.

I was off, early morning, barefoot in scorpion-infested country, with a bottle of luke warm water and a sad excuse for a sandwich, neatly wrapped in newspaper. I was king of the f**king hill and feeling pretty good about it. I never knew it then, how could I, but these people, dad’s friends, were good old-fashioned, poor white, trailer trash. You know, just like the ones you see in all the American road movies.

Yes sir, these people really do exist and as soon as they learned that my dad had been arrested, they took the easy way out, and dumped me at a lovely facility for orphaned kids, Jubilee Hall. I wasn’t their kid, dad was in jail, my mom’s current whereabouts were unknown, so what else were they supposed to do?